


Love Runs Red

by andIwillwrite500more (prototyping)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood Kink, F/M, Menstrual Sex, Menstruation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, he not feral he gentle, i have no excuses just kinkshame me as you will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22673029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/andIwillwrite500more
Summary: He still remembers her look of surprise the first time, when he told her in earnest that the blood didn’t bother him. On the contrary, it intrigued him in a way he couldn’t and still can’t explain.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 8
Kudos: 182





	Love Runs Red

“You’re going to give me an ego, you know.”

Dimitri lifts his head from the crook of Byleth’s neck, eying her small smirk curiously. “How do you mean?”

She strokes his cheek with the back of her finger. “If you keep acting like _nothing_ I do is unappealing, I’ll start to believe it.”

That prompts a deep chuckle. He continues massaging her lower back. “You’re only noticing that now, beloved?”

She tilts her head into her pillow, one eyebrow nearly disappearing into the damp strands of hair clinging to her forehead. “I’m a _mess_ , Dimitri. I can’t say I’d share your… enthusiasm, if it was the other way around.”

Most people probably don’t, Dimitri muses, but that’s not his concern.

He leans up on his elbow and looks at her. She really is a mess, to say nothing of their bed. They’ve ruined yet another pair of sheets, smeared in a spectrum of red stains ranging from droplets to partial handprints. Byleth’s normally pristine skin is similar from the thighs down, particularly between her legs, and Dimitri is likewise painted around his hips.

The grisly sight would be alarming without context, certainly. Dimitri, however, eyes her soiled skin with lingering satisfaction, and runs a hand down her side, her hip, her leg, to drag his fingers lightly along the seam of her thighs, back and forth.

“But you share my enthusiasm as it is now,” he reasons evenly. “As for the mess, I apologize for that.” His gaze moves slowly, pointedly, up her bare body before settling on her face again. “Shall I make it up to you?”

Byleth’s expression doesn’t budge—she’s still able to pull an excellent poker face when she wants to—but he feels the light shiver in her skin. He smiles. “Nothing so bold as before,” he promises, a swipe of his thumb teasing a little higher on her thigh. “I don’t wish to push our luck. But—” Despite the fatigue still clinging to his arms, he abruptly pushes himself over her, retreating down the bed until he’s eye-level with her navel. The coppery smell is strongest here. “—I can at least clean up after myself.”

There’s a bloody thumbprint just below her left hip. Dimitri runs his tongue over it, wiping it away, and Byleth hums sharply.

“That _would_ be the responsible thing to do,” she mutters, and relaxes her legs fully so he can ease them apart.

To Dimitri’s credit, that really is all he intends to do. As much as he enjoys taking her during her monthly bleeding—and as much as she enjoys the extra sensation it gives her—he’s well aware that their window of opportunity is a brief one. Even when she isn’t too sore or distracted by other pains to be touched, one orgasm seems to be the most she can take for those few days. Considering their pleasurable success just a short while ago, she’s at her limit.

Regardless, he’s happy to pleasure her in whatever small ways he can. Judging by her increasing tremble as he moves down her body, tenderly cleaning her bloodstained skin with lips and tongue, his current method works just fine.

The blood around her hips has mostly dried, but the stains between her thighs are still damp, mixed with sweat and fluids from both of them, but it’s all the same to his lack of taste. He sucks lightly here and there, smiling against her skin when she chastises him for teasing her.

When he nears the junction of her thighs again, Byleth draws in a shaky breath and parts her legs a little more. Dimitri looks up to find her watching him, one hand cupped around her breast and kneading it lightly. The low burn in his gut flares into a flame, but he keeps his voice steady.

“Byleth?”

“Dimitri,” she purrs, prompting that flame to grow hotter still.

If this is her way of getting back at him for the teasing, she’s doing a frustratingly good job. It takes him a moment to find his voice, and then another to think of what to say. “I—well—I understand if you’re not… if you’re too…”

Her legs open to him even further. That small smirk creeps back onto her mouth as she bites her lower lip; Dimitri feels his rushing blood change course.

“ _Dimitri_ ,” she says again, but this time it’s a moan. The hand that isn’t playing with her hardened nipple starts slipping down her stomach. “You just keep making a mess of me.” Two fingers draw circles along the dip of her abdomen, slowly, as though she’s considering where to put them. “Do I need to do it myself?” she wonders. Those perfect lips twist into a slight pout.

Dimitri’s hand shoots out to settle on top of hers, stilling it, and even that movement is intentionally light. “No,” he replies quietly. Despite the anticipation rippling through him, he holds her gaze with a sincere look. “...Tell me if it’s too much.”

The amusement twinkling in her bright eyes fades—but then she smiles again and it’s a warm, loving look. “I will.”

With extra care Dimitri perches her knees over his shoulders and angles her hips up towards him, lying as flat as he can to prevent any unnecessary stress on her body. At the touch of his warm breath Byleth shivers again, hissing his name.

He drags his tongue over her slowly. She groans and arches and he tightens his grip before she can thrust up against him. Denying her might frustrate her in the short run, but he knows how sensitive her body is right now. Better that than allowing her to hurt herself in her fervor.

As careful as he normally is with this part of her, now Dimitri errs on the side of being overly cautious: the swipes of his tongue are light, his kisses brief and simple. He doesn’t suck when he takes her skin into his mouth, but works his lips over her in stroking motions until they’re slick with fresh blood.

Byleth writhes above him, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other working her breast feverishly as though she can get herself off with that alone. She curses, she praises him, she moans, she shouts, and each sound drills into him like a hot brand until he’s painfully aware of how hard he is.

Regardless, he keeps at his steady, patient pace. When he finally focuses on her weakest spot—that almost absurdly small tuck of skin that’s helped him finish her off more than a few times—he slows and minds his movements even further, tracing around it with the very tip of his tongue before giving it the gentlest of flicks.

Byleth’s hips twitch hard in his hands as she bites back a sharp cry. He licks the full length of her again and a different kind of warmth floods his mouth, tasteless but exquisite all the same.

The louder her voice gets, the more it frays on his patience, until finally Dimitri unwinds her legs from his shoulders and drags himself halfway up her body, panting hard and grasping the sheets until they tear. It’s sorely tempting to reach down and relieve his pent-up desire, but he forces himself to wait a little longer, reveling instead in his wife’s soft whimpers as he trails light, bloody kisses across her stomach.

“What do you desire, my beloved?” he breathes. “I am yours. Tell me.”

If she wants his mouth again, or his hand, he’ll give it without complaint. As much as he aches for his own finish, helping Byleth to hers is his priority.

She runs her fingers clumsily through his hair, peeling away some of the strands that cling to his sticky face. “All of you,” she pleads in a husky tone. “Inside me.”

His heart pounds eagerly, excitedly, but he knows this will require the most care so far. He’s slow in pushing himself up, and particular about the way he props her hips against his own. Her legs lock loosely around his waist, tightening when his erection brushes against her.

“Don’t—don’t tease,” she stammers. “I want you now.” Her hands run along his arms imploringly.

Normally that command would tempt Dimitri to do the opposite, but his wants come second in this case. She might already be pushing her limits with how much she can comfortably take; in her current state, too much stimulation won’t do her any favors.

He pauses just long enough to give her hand a very light, understanding squeeze. “As you wish, my queen.”

Even without the blood, she’s wet enough that he slides in without resistance. Byleth leans her head back with a long, low hum as he eases himself in all the way, her fingertips grasping weakly at his biceps when their hips connect.

His pulse races and his limbs tremble with the urge to take her fast and hard, to drive in and out of her and make her shout until her voice fails—but the only outward sign of it is the way his fingers dig a little too hard into her soft thighs. With every ounce of self-control that he possesses, Dimitri waits.

Byleth lets out a long, unsteady breath as she finds his gaze, her own tired but glinting with desire.

“Slow,” she whispers.

That’s almost a harder feat than staying still, but Dimitri has done it before and now he gladly does it again for her sake. He watches her for a sign of displeasure as he sets his rhythm, and then as he continues, but her face shows anything but.

She arches her arms over her head to clutch at her pillow, eyes closed and lovely lips parted to let him hear what he’s doing to her and how much she loves it. Everything in him yearns to lean down and _touch her_ , to kiss and caress and fondle and hold, but he settles for dragging his hungry gaze over her instead: her flushed face, her heaving chest, her quivering stomach peppered with his scarlet kisses—and the bloody mess smeared violently between and around her thighs.

She once explained that she doesn’t lose all that much blood during her cycle. Looking at the shining coat of red along the length of his shaft as it moves in and out of her, the thick streaks on his own thighs and stomach and sides, and feeling the itch of where it’s dried around his mouth, Dimitri could believe otherwise.

He still remembers her look of surprise the first time, when he told her in earnest that the blood didn’t bother him. On the contrary, it intrigued him in a way he couldn’t and still can’t explain. Given his history, he would have thought the sight of blood in a peaceful setting, especially that of a loved one, would repulse or unnerve him—not _entice_ him.

He decided before that he wouldn’t overthink it. In truth, he’s fearful of tracing it back to that ugly side of him, the bloodlust that lies dormant but would still sing the moment he killed again.

And yet.

Now, as Dimitri watches Byleth’s small form twist and shiver with pleasure underneath him, as he puts his all into making sure he doesn’t so much as twitch in a way that might hurt her, for an instant he suddenly wonders—

Perhaps it’s _because_ she’s so precious to him.

For her to share her very lifeblood with him, and in a way that causes her no harm…

How much more intimate can they be?

The thought ends as quickly as it started, interrupted by Byleth gasping his name and snapping up into a hard arch. Dimitri immediately stops, letting her throbbing muscles grasp and tighten around him without interruption. Watching her react is almost— _almost_ —enough to send him over, as well.

Her moans die down as her spasms grow farther apart. She melts back down onto the bed, skin glistening with sweat, and winces ever so slightly. Dimitri catches it and starts to withdraw.

“Wait.”

He looks at her bright red face, uncertain. “Byleth—”

“Not—all the way,” she pants, and pushes herself up onto her hands. “Stay—stay inside. I said… I want all of you.”

The heat inside him that’s threatening to fade suddenly makes his skin buzz again. Without a word he obeys and slips back into her about halfway, which leaves enough of him exposed for Byleth to wrap her hand around.

She works him quickly, firmly, satisfying some of that urge he’s been repressing. He pulls out further, giving her more room, but she abruptly stops her motions and squeezes hard enough to make him snarl in surprise and lust.

“I want you all the way in when you finish,” she says coolly. It’s as if the switch in control has made up for her exhaustion; her grip is sure and her gaze steady when he meets it. “Understand?”

“Yes,” he hisses. He wants to thrust into her hand so _badly—_

“Yes what?”

Her crooked smile is as arousing as it is frustrating.

“Yes—Your Grace,” he grinds out.

Byleth resumes pumping him with vigor. The blood on her fingers makes her skin tacky, adding a peculiar sensation as they drag along his length, and he quickly decides that he likes it.

It doesn’t take long. Without time to warn her, Dimitri pushes her hand aside and clamps her hips tight against his, spilling his heat into her a heartbeat later with a loud groan. The smell of her blood and sweat and skin is suddenly, overwhelmingly stimulating, and he wonders how he lasted this long. Her scent and her touch and her warmth, together with the euphoria of his release, tear her name from his throat in growls and angry moans that contradict all the tender care he’s shown her.

He remains hunched over her for a long moment after he’s done, breathing hard, until he feels her light touch along his knuckles. He looks up to see her reclined lazily against the pillows, her tired smile satisfied.

Dimitri joins her a moment later and she immediately presses herself against him, tilting his head forward to kiss gently across his forehead and over his scarred eyelid. He takes no offense when she avoids his mouth.

“How sore are you?” He massages her hip, careful to avoid the pink marks he left there. She’ll have a light set of bruises by the morning, as she often does.

“Mm… tolerably.” She drags her fingers down his chest, drawing five thin trails of fading red along his skin. Her palm rests flat against his racing heart. “You did very well, holding back like that,” she assures him with a demure glance, as if to head off any second thoughts he might have.

He smiles, happy to have pleased, and the motion tugs on the blood and everything else staining his face. He pulls back and wipes at his mouth and chin with a hand. “I’m going to ring for a bath. And some fresh bedding. I can have another drawn in the morning if you would prefer to rest.”

Byleth follows as he sits up. “ _I’ll_ ring for them,” she insists. “You’re… well...” Her eyes flicker over his face. “You should probably clean up before anyone sees you.”

Ah. She has a point.

“One bath ought to be enough for us both,” she adds as she slides out of bed and pulls on a long nightgown, concealing her husband’s bloody canvas. The look she sends him over her shoulder is a sly one. “Don’t you think?”

Dimitri’s previous thought of getting in and out of the bath as fast as possible abruptly dissipates. “Of course,” he answers in the same casual tone, holding the look. “More than enough.”


End file.
